


The Shoemaker and the Elf

by Michelle Christian (movies_michelle)



Category: due South
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/movies_michelle/pseuds/Michelle%20Christian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shoemaker and the Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Espresso for 2. It's all silly, all the time, and the only elf story I am every likely to write, ever.

There once was a shoemaker named Ray. Ray was a good man, an existentially honest man. But, alas, he was a bit, shall we say, in your face.

"What do ya mean, the shoes are too small? Maybe you just have fat feet."

For some reason, business wasn't good and the shoemaker became very poor. His wife, Angie, took the good cart and left him (not that you could blame her). And the mayor, Mr. Zuko, wanted his taxes paid soon. Ray had no money, though, and had no idea how he was going to pay them. Finally, he decided to say his prayers and go to bed. He'd think about it in the morning.

When he awoke the next morning, he found a perfect pair of shoes set out on his work table.

"Who touched my stuff?!" he exclaimed angrily.

"Excuse me."

The man stood in a perfectly ironed red serge jacket. He was a handsome man, almost painfully so. His dark hair was a thick pelt and he had blue eyes that made Ray think of the colour the city's harbour seemed to look in the tourist brochures. And he was standing in the corner of Ray's workshop. Wearing tights.

"Who are you? Peter Pan?"

A look of confusion came over the other man's face. "No. I'm Benton Fraser. Don't be alarmed, I'm an Elf."

Ray smirked. "Aren't you a little tall?"

Fraser looked down at himself. "I never thought so."

"Look, I don't care if you're Gandalf or Bilbo Baggins, what the hell are you doing in my shop?"

"Ah," the man said as he straightened himself up again—though even when he was looking down at himself, he had perfect posture--and got straight to business. "I am here to help you."

"I don't need your help. Get out."

Fraser blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't think you understand. I'm here to help you with your business."

"No, *you* don't understand. I don't want your help. It is not necessary. Get out."

Fraser blinked again. "But you are in need of assistance."

"What's it to you? Why do you want to help me, anyway?"

"Because I'm an Elf. It's what I do."

"I thought elves lived in trees and made cookies."

Fraser really didn't usually blink quite this much. "No. At least I don't. Not that there might not be others who do and it's a fine occupation, I'm sure. It's probably just as well that I don't, really, since I've never really been very good at baking...."

"Ok, OK, I'll let you help. Just shut up."

After much grumbling and complaining on Ray's part (and much blinking on Fraser's), they soon got down to business. Fraser stood outside the store and greeted potential customers. Soon, business was thriving. They managed to sell twelve pairs of shoes in one day. And Ray went to bed smiling. (Yes, alone! This is a kid's story, you know!)

The next day, Ray got up and once more found Fraser standing in a corner and several new pairs of shoes perfectly made on his bench. That day's business was even brisker than the day before, word of mouth having got around. The fact that most of the clientele were female did not escape Ray's notice, though Fraser seemed oblivious. Not that it mattered to Ray since they had plenty of both kinds of shoes and the money all spent the same.

When it came time for the lunch hour that Ray insisted they close for, Ray found himself asking Fraser questions.

"So, how's the Big Guy?"

"The 'Big Guy,' Ray?"

"You know, ol' Fat and Jolly. The one with all the toys. Santa Claus, you moron," Ray finally said, exasperated by Fraser's continued blank look.

"Oh. Him. He's fine, Ray. Actually, he hasn't been quite the same since Mrs. Claus left."

"You're kidding. She left Santa Claus?"

"Yes. She was very lovely, too. And she had a beautiful voice. But she had a darkness...." Fraser's voice had faded out and his eyes looked off in to the distance.

It was Ray's turn to blink. "Mrs. Claus?" he asked incredulously.

Fraser seemed to snap out of it then. "Yes. One night she took the keys to the extra sled, a couple of gingersnaps and no one's seen her since. It was very distressing."

"I bet." Ray wondered what he was supposed to do with an unbalanced elf.

Their days pretty much fell into a pattern for the next week or so. Ray would wake up in the morning to find Fraser in his workshop, shoes made and customers waiting at the door. Ray soon had enough money to pay off all his taxes to Mayor Zuko, and was even pleased enough to start thanking his customers very kindly himself without Fraser's prompting. They spent the few easy minutes they had during the day talking about their lives and their dreams. They showed each other their forms of transportation: Ray's one horse cart that he called the Riv for some unknown reason ("Someday, I'm going to get three more horses and then this baby will really go!") and Fraser's one wolf sled ("That's Santa who has the reindeer, Ray. I'm merely an Elf.") In short, they bonded.

Finally, it was two days before Christmas and Ray prepared to close for the holidays. Almost shyly, he asked Fraser to spend the holiday with him.

"I can't, Ray. I have to work on Christmas."

Ray was outraged. "What?! Even Scrooge gave Bob Cratchit Christmas Day off!"

"Ray, I'm an Elf. I *have* to work on Christmas Day," Fraser reasoned.

"No, you may have to work on Christmas Eve, I grant you, but no one has to work on Christmas Day. I know it's against the law."

"Well, actually, I don't believe...."

"Then it should be! What's there to do, when it's all said and done?"

Fraser seemed slightly taken aback, both by the vehemence from Ray and the questions he just really had never thought of before. "Well, there does tend to be a bit of sweeping...."

"Sweeping? And that can't wait a day or two? You can't tell me that the other elves are all sweeping with you."

Fraser wrinkled his forehead in sudden realization. "Well, no, actually. I don't usually see much of anyone that day. Santa's so exhausted from the night before and all. ut I really don't think that's the point...."

"Of course that's the point! Fraser, I want you to go straight back there tonight and demand Christmas Day off. You need to stand up for yourself!"

"I don't know, Ray, we have this new foreman and she's--"

"Not another word, Fraser!"

The next day, Fraser was standing in the corner of the shop when Ray came out, as usual. But instead of the usual red serge jacket, he wore a regular plaid work jacket.

"I was fired, Ray. I'm an ex-Elf."

Ray was stunned at first, almost matching the stunned look on Fraser's face. And then he grinned. "Great! That means you can stay here..."

"I think I'm the first Elf ever to be fired."

"...help me with the shop..."

"She made me give her all my jackets."

"...and live happily ever after!"

And once the shock wore off, that's just what happened.

THE END


End file.
